The Man Who Can't Be Moved
by alexagirl18
Summary: Going back to the corner, where I first saw you, gonna camp in my sleeping bag, I'm not gonna move.   It's been six weeks since Kurt threw Blaine out, but he's determined to get Kurt back.


** The Man Who Can't Be Moved **

**Author's Note: So I finally wrote this! This idea has been floating around in my head for ages, inspired and named after "The Man Who Can't Be Moved", an amazing song by The Script. What the man in the song does just sounded so much like something Blaine would do for Kurt, and this fic was created!**

**In this story, Kurt and Blaine are both living in New York. I have zero knowledge of New York, so I borrowed the coffee shop and the street name from a fic called "Little Numbers", which is an amazing fic which you should all check out if you haven't already.**

**Finally, thank you to my beta, D. H. Spy for beta-ing this for me! Go and check out her stuff too, she's an amazing writer! She is currently updating my "A Drabble A Day" fic - I am unable to update right now as I am away but I managed to get an internet connection long enough to send this to her to beta, and she posted it for me. ;D  
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**Disclaimer: Yeah, owning Glee? I wish…**

Kurt slipped through the front door of his apartment block, into the warmth of the lobby. He brushed the fresh flakes of snow off his coat and began to climb the stairs; the lift never worked. He dumped his Christmas shopping in his apartment and said a brief hello to Finn and Rachel across the hall.

"You're back early!" Rachel exclaimed, adding the final touches to their Christmas tree.

"Yeah… didn't take so long without buying something for-" Kurt left the end of the sentence hanging, although everyone knew exactly what the last word was.

_Blaine. _After a heated argument around six weeks ago, Kurt had lost it and thrown Blaine out. He hadn't seen, heard from or spoken to him since. Finn threw a nervous look at Rachel.

"Well, I heard they're showing Project Runway re-runs later!" Rachel announced, breaking the awkward silence that had settled in the apartment.

"Great," Kurt replied, trying to sound enthusiastic but fooling nobody. He turned and crossed the hall, returning to his own empty apartment.

* * *

><p><em>No… no… no… <em>Kurt sighed mentally, flicking through the endless channels in hope of finding those Project Runway re-runs that Rachel had mentioned. He had changed into his pyjamas as soon as he'd got back and now clutched a half-eaten pack of cookies like they were his life line.

Nearly mentioning Blaine had stirred up all his memories, bringing them flooding back into his brain. The night he'd thrown Blaine out… he regretted _everything. _But Blaine had disappeared; gone without a trace. He didn't answer his cell phone; none of the Warblers knew where he was and Kurt didn't even contemplate ringing Blaine's parents.

Kurt was nearing the end of the list of channels when something caught his eye. Or rather_ someone. _He flicked back and nearly fell off the couch.

It was Blaine. On TV. Unshaven, hair slightly longer and wild without that usual helping of gel, guitar slung around his neck and stood next to a reporter on a snowy street corner. What was Blaine doing on TV?

"And what's your name, son?" the reporter asked, holding a microphone up to Blaine's mouth.

"Blaine Anderson." A title scrolled across the bottom of the screen. _The Man Who Can't Be Moved. _What?

"And how long have you been here?" the reporter asked again, indicating the street around them.

"5 weeks and 6 days, exactly," Blaine said with a sad smile.

What? So, Blaine had been standing on this street corner ever since Kurt had thrown him out? Well, that explained the crazy curls and the facial hair. The camera panned around, so the audience could see where Blaine had been standing, waiting even. Kurt recognised it instantly.

They were standing at the corner of 4th Avenue, between 12th and 13th streets. Kurt avoided going there anymore, as there was a small coffee shop a little way down 4th Avenue where he and Blaine always went. It was New York's answer to the Lima Bean for them; and it brought back too many memories.

"So, Mr. Anderson, care to tell us why you're here?" Blaine looked straight into the camera, and Kurt was thankful he was sitting down as he felt his legs go weak.

"5 weeks and 6 days ago, my boyfriend threw me out." Kurt noticed the reporter become suddenly tense, nearly dropping his notecards. Blaine continued regardless. "Kurt and I used to spend so much time here, and it seemed only appropriate to wait for him here. Tomorrow, as you all know, is Christmas Day. It also marks the 6 week anniversary of our break-up. I'm not allowed to stay here much longer, Kurt, this is my last night. I'm hoping that you'll see this interview, and…"

Blaine paused, unable to finish his sentence, perhaps wondering what would happen if Kurt didn't see this interview. Kurt went to lean closer to the TV screen, only to find that he was already on the edge of his seat. "I have a song… that I'd like to sing for him," Blaine told the reporter, who nodded and stepped out of the camera shot so only Blaine was on screen. He took a deep breath and began to gently pluck his guitar strings, softly singing.

_Going back to the corner,_

_Where I first saw you,_

_Gonna camp in my sleeping bag,_

_I'm not gonna move,_

_Got some words on cardboard,_

_Got your picture in my hand,_

_Saying if you see this boy,_

_Can you tell him where I am,_

_Some try to hand me money,_

_They don't understand,_

_I'm not broke,_

_I'm just a broken hearted man,_

_I know it makes no sense,_

_What else can I do?_

_How can I move on,_

_When I'm still in love with you?_

Blaine continued to sing; not caring if thousands of people were watching this, just hoping that one particular person was.

_Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me,_

_And your heart starts to wonder where on this Earth I could be,_

_Thinkin' maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet,_

_And you'll see me waiting for you,_

_On the corner of the street,_

Kurt wanted to jump up from his seat and run, run to Blaine. But he found himself paralysed in his chair.

_So I'm not moving, I'm not moving,_

Regaining control in his legs, Kurt leapt up, flung his front door open and began to run.

* * *

><p>Blaine noticed there was quite an audience gathering behind the camera crew, watching as he sang (and possibly humiliated himself) on live TV.<p>

_And maybe I'll get famous,_

_As the man who can't be moved,_

_And maybe you won't mean to,_

_But you'll see me on the news,_

_And you'll come running to the corner,_

_Cause you'll know it's just for you,_

_I'm the man who can't be moved,_

Blaine launched back into the chorus.

* * *

><p>Kurt was hurtling down 4th Avenue. His chest was killing him and his feet were sore from all the running. He was heading for the growing crowd at the other end of the avenue.<p>

He reached it and attempted to push through the crowd. He could hear Blaine's angelic voice floating through the crowd.

_Going back to the corner,_

_Where I first saw you,_

_Gonna camp in my sleeping bag,_

_I'm not gonna move,_

Blaine finished his song and the reporter began talking again. But Kurt was too far away, lost in the thickness of the crowd.

"Blaine!" he shouted desperately, using up all of his remaining energy to make himself heard.

* * *

><p>Blaine played the final note of the song, staring straight into the camera again. He hoped, <em>wished<em> so hard that Kurt was watching.

And then he heard it. His name being called. By Kurt. "Blaine!"

"Kurt!" Blaine called back, running wildly in the direction of the shout. Upon hearing the cries, the crowd had thinned so the two boys had a clear path to between them. They ran straight at each other; embracing in a hug. A hug that worth 5 weeks and 6 days. A hug that said everything so they didn't have to.

* * *

><p>"So, tell me how you managed to swing that interview," Kurt said, handing Blaine a cup of coffee. They had planned to get a coffee in town and talk things over, but not many of the coffee shops were open being Christmas Eve, and the ones that were didn't seem likely to serve someone that looked like a tramp and his pyjama clad boyfriend.<p>

"I have my people," Blaine replied, grinning, taking the coffee from Kurt, and thanking him.

"I still can't believe you waited on that street corner for six weeks."

"Well, my original plan was, as the song said, was to wait where we first met, but somehow I didn't think Dalton would like it if I set up camp on their staircase, even if I was their star soloist," Blaine replied, laughing. "I can't believe you didn't see me there sooner."

"I've been avoiding 4th Avenue like the plague since I threw you out. Too many memories, the coffee shop at 123… I just couldn't. I didn't stop trying to get hold of you though."

Blaine smiled again, leaning in to kiss Kurt. Kurt didn't know how he'd gone without Blaine's smile. Or his kisses. His mouth in general. Blaine.

"I'm just so glad to have you back. No one's ever done anything like that for me before," Kurt said, stroking Blaine's dark curls, still damp from his long-awaited shower.

"Kurt, I would wait years for you."

"Me too."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Wasn't that just amazing? - DH :) <em>**


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